


Just a Song at the Start

by Tabithian



Series: Soft as the Starlight in the Sky [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magical Girls, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 04:45:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5234612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rain started just over an hour ago, and Tim's had a few visitors since then.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Song at the Start

**Author's Note:**

> Rogu3p1rate26 wanted to see Tim taking care of a sick Jason in this AU? So then this happened. :D?

The rain started just over an hour ago, and Tim's had a few visitors since then.

Alfred, ever aware of his charges and their habits had come by hours earlier. There had been an amused look in his eyes, slight quirk to his mouth. Tim had fetched the thermoses from the cabinets he kept them in and took a seat at the kitchen island while Alfred puttered around, making a batch of his infamous hot chocolate. 

It had been warm and familiar, the two of them talking about nothing of any great importance, Barbara chiming in over speakerphone.

Since then Tim's had a few visitors, Barbara's voice so very amused as she announces their arrival seconds before Tim hears the tap at his balcony doors.

Steph, plucking a couple of thermoses from Tim and smacking a playful kiss on his cheek while Cass smirked at him from the balcony before they'd gone back to patrol. Dick dragging a sullen Damian along behind him, ruffling his hair as he pushed him into a seat at the kitchen island and slid a mug of hot chocolate over to him, sipping at the one Tim handed to him with a little sigh of happiness.

Dick telling Tim about their night so far as he kept an eye on Damian who looked to be if not half asleep, then quickly headed that way. Dick giving Tim a fond smile s he coaxed Damian to his feet and reminded him it was a school night, better turn in early while Damian offered up protests Tim could hear even as they swung away from his building.

Bruce, just now.

Tall, dark, and brooding, brightly colored thermos with the Bat-logo on it in one gauntleted hand.

“Dick picked it out for you after the incident with the last one,” Tim says, not even bothering to hide the smile at the look on Bruce's face.

Bruce looks up at Tim, and sighs.

“For the last time - “

“It won't be,” Tim points out. “You know Dick loves to give you grief over that.”

Another sigh, long and drawn out, like Bruce's kids are the absolute worst people in the world. 

“...It was close to hand.”

Tim raises an eyebrow.

“And there was a cowardly and superstitious criminal, I know,” Tim says, grin widening. “Dick keeps telling me about it.”

Tim and everyone who will listen because apparently the legendary Batman knocking a criminal out with a thermos full of hot chocolate is the kind of thing they find hilarious.

“Red Hood,” Bruce says, clearing his throat to let Tim know that line of conversation is over.

Tim tips his head to the side, and waits.

This.

Jason's revealed his identity to Bruce, to Dick and the others and the reactions have varied widely.

Relief, happiness and joy, to be sure, but there's a bit of anger and resentment. Betrayal, that Jason hadn't felt he could trust them, which.

It's complicated, because none of them ever do things the easy way.

“He hasn't come here tonight.”

Not a question, and Tim knows Bruce is still...conflicted when it comes to Jason.

So very glad to have him back, but wary of Jason and his new powers. The enigma that is the small, cranky cat going by the moniker of Mr. Meowface. 

What it all means for Jason. The family. 

Gotham.

Worry and concern and fear, in Bruce's usual fashion.

“No,” Tim says, rueful smile on his face. “I was just about to go get the idiot.”

“Do you - “

“Bruce.”

It comes out soft, fond, because Bruce _is_ trying. 

Learning to trust that Jason knows (for the most part, because this is _Jason_ ) what he's doing with his new powers. To leave magical side of things here in Gotham to Jason.

Or, well. 

The ones that are related to Jason's new powers and Mr. Meowface at any rate, there are still things here that even Jason isn't prepared to handle. Things better left to people like Jason Blood.

Learning to trust that Jason is still _Jason_ at the heart of things, someone who wants to help other people, keep Bruce's family safe the way he always has.

“Go home, Bruce,” Tim says. “You're done patrolling for the night or you wouldn't have come here. Dick took Damian home hours ago, and Steph and Cass did too.”

Bruce is looking at him, the way he does sometimes. Like he wonders what it might have been like, if Tim had put on a suit like the rest of them.

“Don't worry,” Tim says, knowing that just saying so won't keep Bruce from worrying. “I'll look after him.”

“I know you will,” Bruce says, corner of his mouth pulling up into a crooked little smile because he knows that's all Tim's ever done when it comes to Jason.

********

Finding Jason isn't the hard part, no. Convincing him to pack it in for the night, get out of the weather and someplace warm where he can change into clothes that aren't soaked through is.

Jason's half-hidden under a tarp someone must have tacked to the side of the roof access cover a long time ago, tattered and flapping in the wind where it's come loose on one side. 

When Tim takes a step forward he can see Mr. Meowface is huddled in the opening to one of the air vents looking cold, cranky, and amazingly done with Jason and all of his stubbornness.

Jason himself looks cold, cranky, and done with everything ever.

He's in one of the earlier versions of his suit. The one that's been making the rounds since he first made his appearance in Gotham over a year ago now, even though his suit's changed since then. Jason gaining a better understanding and control of his powers over time.

Tim bites back a grin, realizing Jason has no idea how closely he matches the police sketch hanging in Tim's living room right now, skirt and all.

“Hey,” Tim says, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Jason gives him a wholly unimpressed look for that.

Tim shrugs, glad Jason's not wearing the helmet tonight because there's no way to hide that being out in this weather hasn't been one of Jason's best decisions. Not when it's pretty clear just by looking at him that he's coming down with something.

“Detective Drake,” Jason says, voice a little more nasally than it usually is. “That is a terrible pick-up line.”

Tim shrugs again, unbothered by that, and moves a little closer.

He catches the gleam of Mr. Meowface's eyes as he moves past the air vent and sits down next to Jason

“I blame my partner for that, he's a terrible human being,” Tim says, following Jason's gaze to the building across the way. 

Old, abandoned. Most of its windows broken, graffiti covering the side of the building facing them. Grasses and weeds poking up here and there in the small parking lot along one side.

There's been some weird activity in the area Jason's staking out. Reports about it in the Batcomputer, Barbara offering him what she had on it. Tim digging through police reports and anything else he could to see if there was anything useful there.

Nothing concrete as of yet, but there's something here – Jason saying he can feel it, and so can Mr. Meowface. 

Both of them restless, uneasy.

Worried about a repeat of the incident a few months back that had taken out a city block, razed entire buildings to the ground leaving nothing but smoking rubble and a crater behind.

Jason grumbles something about Dick and Tim being the same level of idiot, which.

Fair, really.

“The hell are you even doing out here, anyway? I thought Alfred had you on call for Bat-care duty tonight.”

There's a faint rasp, catch to Jason's voice when he talks, and he keeps rubbing his throat absently. Grimacing and trying to hide it when he realizes Tim's watching.

Jason's definitely getting sick, even though he'll never give in and admit to it. Something that goes back to when he was Robin.

Batman never gets sick, so it only makes sense that Robin doesn't either, right?

Tim rolls his eyes, hands tightening around the thermos shoved in one of his pockets, steady point of warmth as the wind shifts, sending rain into their faces and a little blast of cold for good measure.

“And what do you think you are, Jason?” he asks, but as always, there's no heat to it, just the same kind of fondness and affection that's been there for as long as Tim can remember. “Do you want your thermos or not?”

Jason makes a humming noise, or tries to, but his voice gives out on him and spends a few moments trying to fight a cough. 

The corner of Tim's mouth twitches because clearly Jason's still not sick.

Once Jason has himself back under control Tim holds the thermos out without a word.

Jason gives him a look, like he knows exactly what Tim's thinking as he takes it, cradling the thermos in his hands for a bit.

They sit companionably in silence for a time, wind and rain and cold. Jason inching closer to Tim to share what body heat they can, savoring the warmth from Alfred's hot chocolate, Tim giving Jason pointed looks when he offers Tim a drink.

Tim puts up with it until Jason starts leaning more and more against Tim, heavy and tired and more than done for the night even if he won't admit it. 

“I'm pretty sure you used to be smarter than this,” Tim says, quiet, nudging Jason with an elbow, small smile on his face.

Jason sighs, long and low. 

“Probably, yeah.”

There's a quiet chirrup from behind them, somehow managing to sound disdainful.

Jason snorts, “Shut it, furball.”

Tim glances at Jason, who looks as miserable as someone who's been staking out an empty building all night in the cold and rain would, and sighs.

“Ready to call it a night?”

There's a worrying moment when Tim thinks Jason's going to be stubborn – more so – about this, but then he looks at Tim, tired little smile on his face.

“What do you think?”

********

Tim takes the opportunity to dry Mr. Meowface off and set him up with an old heating pad while Jason showers and changes into dry clothes.

He can hear Jason moving around down the hall, tossing wet towels into the washer tucked away at the end of the hall and moves on to reheating the second pot of hot chocolate Alfred had left for them.

“Huh, I didn't even know you could do that,” Jason mutters, staring down at Mr. Meowface who looks completely content.

He's purring away, eyes the barest of slits as he purrs away under the thick, fluffy towel draped over him trapping the warmth coming off the heating pad.

Mr. Meowface must say something to Jason that has him shooting the magical cat a dirty look and muttering under his breath.

“Hot chocolate's done,” Tim calls out, waving a mug in Jason's direction. “Better move it or I'll drink it all.”

Jason scowls at him, and Tim raises an eyebrow.

It's not an idle threat, which Jason knows all too well.

“You're such a little shit,” Jason says fondly, and oh, he's going to be fun the next little bit while he's sick, Tim can tell already by the way Jason's voice goes low and scratchy.

Jason's fine at first, little bleary maybe, but then when when the cold or flu or whatever has him down for the count, he gets.

Grumpy, cranky.

Sick and miserable and hating every moment of it.

Hating that he's sick and miserable and making himself even more miserable in the process and it's just not a lot of fun to deal with. 

Bruce and Dick are like that too, in their own ways.

Terrible patients who don't deal all that well with being sick, which is understandable, given everything, but.

“Still so charming,” Tim says, grinning a little when Jason slides the mug out of Tim's hands, fingers brushing his. 

“Shut it,” Jason says, little curl to his mouth as he leans against the kitchen counter beside Tim. “You love it.”

Tim snorts, sharing a look with Mr. Meowface.

“Keep telling yourself that, Jason.”

Jason makes an offended noise that turns into a sneeze mid-way. 

There's a pause, Mr. Meowface's purring dropping away, and Jason's insistent, “I'm not sick.”

Of course he's not.

Tim sighs, holding up a package of cold medicine. 

“Finish your hot chocolate, take these, and then bed.”

Jason blinks, going in for an utterly ridiculous eyebrow waggle, but Tim's elbow finds his ribs first.

“Hot chocolate, medicine, then _sleep_ , you jerk.”

Jason grunts, arm curling around his midsection protectively as Tim cleans up. 

“Well of course,” Jason says, sounding hurt that Tim could possibly think Jason was implying something... _unsavory_. “What else would you mean?”

Tim rolls his eyes, flicking soapy water over his shoulder at Jason who just laughs.

********

Tim wakes up to the rustle of fabric and movement behind him - and a moment later Jason's flinch, followed by a muffled curse. 

Sunlight is filtering in under the blinds and the clock on the side table reads as early morning, barely a few hours of sleep for the two of them.

Slowly, carefully, Tim rolls over to see Mr. Meowface picking his way up Jason's legs, claws out just enough if the look on Jason's face is anything to go by.

Teeth bared, soft, pained noises as Mr. Meowface takes his time, paws nimble and surefooted.

“Bastard,” Jason mutters, staring at Mr. Meowface who stares back, unblinking.

Tim just watches in silence, faint little thread of amusement as Mr. Meowface plops down on Jason's chest and cocks his head.

“I was just - “ Jason cuts a look at Tim, eyes sliding away when he realizes Tim's looking back. “I thought of some things I could look into, okay? That stake-out last night - “

Mr. Meowface must say something because Jason gets this look on his face that's a mix of incredulous and amused.

“You're such a damn liar,” Jason says, with a helpless little laugh. “And anyway, the heating pad's over there, you bastard.”

“What did he say?”

Jason blinks, shrugs. “Bastard says he's cold and I'm the warmest thing in the place.”

Tim tilts his head to the side, carefully not mentioning the way he's curled up against Jason since checking to see if he was alright, almost without realizing. Naturally drawn to the nice little blaze of warmth next to him, and that Mr. Meowface has a point. 

Jason seems to run warmer these days than what Tim remembers, which could definitely be related to his powers.

“Shut up, both of you,” Jason mutters. “Seriously, though. We can't just - “

“Jason,” Tim says, tired and sleepy and warm. “You're sick and you need your rest. I'm sure Mr. Meowface will tell you if he senses trouble.”

Mr. Meowface meows, like he's agreeing, and Jason just stares at the two of them looking a little confused.

Jason sighs, trying and failing to shove Mr. Meowface off, but just like that time with the giant lizard-things, he's an immovable object.

“Goddammit,” Jason sighs, congested and miserable and hating it all the way. “I'm not sick, okay?”

Tim rolls his eyes, arm stealing over Jason's ribs just under the spot Mr. Meowface has claimed and makes a soothing, noise.

“Right, right,” he says, moving closer. “Of course not.”

Mr. Meowface doesn't seem concerned and he's the one who seems know how Jason's powers, so Tim will trust him on that for now. That Jason's fine, cold aside.

“God, you two are such assholes.”

He can feel Jason's irritation, picture the glare he's giving Tim, but Jason's warm and comfortable and Tim's _tired_.

Working cases with Dick during the day for their day jobs, helping Jason fill in gaps in the files Bruce has on Jason and anything having to do with his unique situation at the Batcave. Helping Jason out by going through computer databases and digging through old hard-copy files that haven't been digitized yet.

On top of that, there's a tickle at the back of Tim's throat and his body aches, eyes feeling dry and bloodshot.

Whether due to sitting with Jason on a roof in the middle of a rainstorm or sharing a bed with him to make sure he didn't try to sneak off (even though Jason was undeniably sick) Tim was bound to get sick.

Not one of Tim's brighter ideas, any of this, but so few of them are when Jason's involved.

“Such assholes,” Jason mutters, arm tightening around Tim as he settles back down to sleep.

Just as Tim starts drifting off to sleep, Jason close behind, Mr. Meowface starts to purr again. He sounds smug and oh so pleased with himself and the state of things in his world.


End file.
